a/n: sorry, i have no idea what this is but i felt angsty...
krish doesn’t know how long it’s been. he doesn’t even know what day it is and he doesn’t want to know. he knows it’s been less than fourteen days though. because he knows there’s a pooja happening fourteen days after, a pooja that he has to attend. a pooja where he needs to once again put on his actor face and pretend to be okay. a pooja that he will regret the moment it begins because once again he’ll hear those words from everyone around him. those stupid words that mean nothing.
they mean nothing to him, because the words won’t bring tanya back. no amount of praying, or grieving or condolences will bring back his tanya.
nothing can help him anymore and he knows it. he’s lived a life with her and it was a life that was almost always filled with happiness and maybe that’s why this happened. maybe they weren’t allowed to be this happy. maybe they were supposed to be fighting and angry with one another. maybe then God would’ve spared her from the pain of her cancer and him from the pain of losing his wife.
he’s blamed God a lot for the last however long it’s been. it’s the only person he can blame. because tanya’s gone and he can’t blame her. he tried blaming himself. he even tried punishing himself but that’s when he heard her voice. he heard her chiding him. he heard her angry with him. and he heard her reminding him to live for their love.
their children.
rahul and prem were both parts of tanya that he still had and yet—krish couldn’t do it. he couldn’t even come in front of his kids. he knew they didn’t blame him but he wished they did. he wished someone blamed him for tanya’s passing. he wished then he could justify the pain in his heart.
but losing his wife, losing his tanya made him feel as if his once complete soul was now ripped apart. she was his other half in every which way and now—she was gone leaving him to be incomplete for the rest of his days.
and peering up in the darkness of his bedroom, his eyes fell on the large canvas she’d painted from a picture of their wedding day after much begging from him. she looked so eternally beautiful with that dimpled grin of hers, and those twinkling eyes.
he’d never get to see her like that.
he’d never get to feel her in his arms.
and he’d never get to love his wife and feel her love back.
because she was gone. leaving him all alone in this cold dark world.
aaj bhi tum mere humsafar ho, jaaon chaahe jahaan tum wahin ho...
When Krish was handed two letters by his lawyer, Mr. Ahuja, on the eve of Tanya’s birthday, he didn’t want to take them. He didn’t want to read what she had to say. Not this time. Not when he knew how much he was disappointing her.
Krish was breathing yes, he was conducting his day to day life but he wasn’t living. And by not living, he was betraying Tanya and all the promises he’d made to her, on the day of their wedding, and every single day after that.
If he read her letter, and she expected him to be happy, and light and okay--he was going to be disappointing her, even if she wasn’t around to see it. And that was the worst thing he could do to her; especially when she’d already been through so much.
It’s what he wondered about the most truthfully. He knew how hard her life was when she was in Delhi before, being the girl who got left at the altar by a man who betrayed her. And that’s why Krish just hoped and prayed that the life they ended up building together was one that helped her forget the pain she’d undergone before.
But now he sat there in the confines of his darkened bedroom and gently pulled the envelope open. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to see what she had to say. And yet when he saw his name in her cursive writing--he knew he couldn’t resist.
Krish didn’t know how she’d done it, but he’d managed to smile right away from her first few words. She always did know how to put a smile on his face, and how to make him laugh.
He wouldn’t mention it to anyone, ever, but he felt like he hadn’t smiled in the last three years, maybe even before that. His jaw actually hurt from this one little action and yet he couldn’t stop. He needed to keep reading, he needed to know what she had to say. Maybe she wouldn’t be too upset with him; at least he hoped for it desperately.
But that was the funny thing, Tanya knew Krish so well that even three years ago, she must’ve known how he’d been reacting to her being gone, and how he’d still be stuck in a place where he hated every single day without her. But then she mentioned crying, and his own tears wouldn’t stop. She was in so much pain then and he hadn’t been there. She’d been alone dealing with every single throb of pain while he’d been off trying to distract himself.
(Of course it was besides the point that Tanya had been the one who basically forced him to leave because she was worried he was becoming an entire hermit but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty.)
Krish continued reading, past the words about how proud she was of him, his one finger wiping away his tears as he read about the way she describe the picture of her immortalized forever on celluloid. The truth was, that in all his productions that followed after her untimely death--he did have a picture of her up there, but the words didn’t say ‘we miss you’, no. Krish wanted it to be about just him but he couldn’t do that and so instead it only said ‘miss you,’ in his own writing, a fact not everyone knew about.
Her jokes about purchasing a piece of real estate in heaven, it made him want to laugh but at the same time, weep because she was away from him. He wanted her here. Krish needed her right here by his side, holding his hand. His boys were turning eleven in a few months, and more than anything--they needed their mother because Krish, well, he had absolutely no idea how to raise them on his own, especially when they were entering a phase that could be potentially life changing for both of them.
Putting down that letter, Krish picked up the next one, eager to know now what she was going to say. He didn’t know what else she had to say but it would be important. Because why else would she leave him two letters instead of just one? The strange part was, despite it being three years ago, he was worried bout how she must’ve managed to write both of his letters while being in pain thanks to the chemotherapy she was undergoing.
He was about to open the second one, but that’s when a loud knock was heard at his door and he could hear his son’s voices from outside.
“You say something,”
“No--you.”
“You’re younger.”
“Yeah but you’re older. And besides--he likes you better.”
“No he doesn’t. He loves us both.”
“Yeah okay, stop sounding like Dadi. Baba doesn’t love us both the same...”
And that’s when he heard no other voices or more knocks. Instead, all he heard were retreating footsteps and knew his sons weren’t even bothering to wait for Krish to answer the door, choosing to walk away again.
It was their mother’s birthday in two hours and while he’d made a promise to Tnaya to celebrate the day together with both their boys--Krish couldn’t do it. This was a day he’d spend in her studio space, the one he’d bought her. It was where he felt closest to her, especially because the place was virtually untouched unless Krish was there. He left it absolutely the same, the way it had been from the last time he’d been there--exactly one year ago.
But this time, he’d come to the bedroom he shared with Tanya, the one where sometimes he still felt her thanks to the few paintings his mother had allowed him to keep.
Krish had been reluctantly dragged out by Abhi to see a screening of the latest film they were producing and when he’d gotten home--every painting Tanya had ever made was gone. That was the first time after Tanya’s death where Krish had truly broken down in a way that Isha had been incredibly concerned about him. He’d been taken to his doctor, been given medication--and relaxed even though his heart had been revolting at everything. Isha had understood and allowed him to see that all the paintings were still in a storage unit, all persevered for when Krish could go back to them without breaking down.
And so he stared across the room at the first painting she’d ever painted just for him and found himself wanting to smile again, wanting to go back to that moment. Wanting to relive every moment since then and fall back in love with her all over again.
His fingers slipped under the flap and tugged open the envelope, this time reading through her letter with more haste, wanting to know what more she had to say, why she had to write him another letter. And it was the first paragraph itself that had his heart racing.
His smiles were her cure? She’d never told him that and now he just wished she had, he wished she’d told him everything she had in this letter. She was scared on their wedding day. She was worried he was going to leave her. And Krish--he remembered being so anxious, so eager to have been there with her even during the morning before their wedding, wanting to remind her that he was there, and he was going to love her to the end of time.
And he did. He would always love her until the end of time. But he just didn’t realize that her end of time would come quicker than theirs together.
But when she spoke about not ever wanting to leave him, he wanted to fight with her. He needed to fight with her. Because she did leave him. She hadn’t tried hard enough to hold on. She still left him even though he’d wanted her to hold on with everything she had.
Krish’s eyes were once again filled with moisture as he read through her last few words and found himself letting the letter go, ignoring the few new tear stains he’d left on it. She was worried about fulfilling her promise to him, and all he wanted to tell her was that of course she did. Krish hadn’t been expecting to fall for someone as hard as he had after Radha had broken his heart but that was the thing about Tanya. She snuck into his chest in a way he’d never even realized, it was innocent and naive.
Krish Malhotra had fallen head over heels in love with Tanya Sen, and no matter if it’d been one year, three years, five years, or ten years later--his love for her was never going to fade.
Even now as he clutched those letters tightly in his grip, he wanted to breathe in the faint scent he could still smell on them, a smell that should’ve been just the hospital smell, but for Krish right now--maybe he was imagining it, but it smelt of her perfume. Daisy by Marc Jacobs.
He still kept the bottle on their vanity, wanting yet another thing to hold onto. It was as if he was adamant on keeping her alive, no matter what happened, and no matter how many years passed.
For Krish, Tanya would always live on, in his life, in his world, and in his heart--forever.
tumne choda hai kab saath mera, thaame ho aaj bhi haath mera..
general notes; we thrive on pain and angst–enjoy? this para is still only the first couple of many more paintful angsty ones to come.
It was such a soft question, one he’d barely heard when he’d gone to the boy’s school to pick the up after school. Krish didn’t do it often but today was different. It was the day before Tanya’s birthday.
Still, when Prem had questioned silently to his brother about why everyone else had a mom and they didn’t, Krish’s heart had broken once more. He knew the boys were old enough to understand it. Yes, eight wasn’t a very experienced age but they still knew what had happened to their mother and why she wasn’t around anymore. But every so often these types of things would slip out of their mouths and Krish would pretend not to have heard because he had no answers.
Conversations in the Malhotra household now mostly existed between Isha, Shanta tai, and the boys. His mother had moved in with him, aware that while her grandchildren needed a nurturing presence, Krish too—needed to be looked after. However, Krish preferred his solitude and even though everyone had tried to pull him out of it—that was his happy place. Besides, why couldn’t they understand this wasn’t something he could easily cope with. His wife had died. The woman he was still madly in love with—was gone. His heart felt broken in his chest, one part with him and it kept him alive, the other half—was with Tanya wherever she was.
Once he arrived home, he watched the kids run inside, rushing to tell their grandma whatever they’d done in school today, while Krish—he went to his study. It was his safe place, it was where he want to escape the reality of his life. Initially, he’d spent more time outside of the house, knowing the memories from inside would all come together and suffocate him but being outside—he couldn’t do it either.
Everywhere he went there was something about Tanya there. Chowpatty was where they’d once had an impromptu date. They’d sat along the rocks on Marine Drive. He’d taken her to the Trident hotel to show her the view of the Queen’s necklace around the ocean. They’d sat at three in the morning on the steps of the museum. Every place in the city he had grown so fond for—held her in every corner.
And the problem with Delhi now—was that it too held Tanya everywhere Krish looked. After he’d given her a proper tour of Mumbai, she’d, of course, decided that she’d show him all her favourite places in Delhi, places he knew when he was younger, places that would now belong to the memories they’d created together.
That’s why Krish would sit there in his study for hours, his mind idle—his thoughts going to very dark places, places where he’d only ventured once before, places that he knew Tanya would not be pleased to know he was going. He didn’t know how the time passed, only aware of meal times because of how his mother or Shanta tai would come and knock on his door, asking for him to eat something, even a small morsel but Krish mostly refused. It wasn’t that he was trying to prove a point, or going on a hunger strike—no but he just wasn’t hungry much anymore.
The large grandfather clock in his study chimed at midnight and he looked down at the wedding picture he had on his desk. A small smile was on his face when he looked at it and let his index fingers trace over Tanya’s features. “Happy birthday Tanya,” he whispered quietly, his heartbeat being the only sound he heard now.
She was gone. She was really gone. It had been over eight months and yet the pain was as raw as if it had been just yesterday. He couldn’t be here anymore. He didn’t want to be in this place, in this home—all he wanted was a place where she was there—and it would just be the two of them.
And that’s why he dug into his drawers, finding the two keys the lawyer had given him early on before putting the one for her gallery back, picking up the one for the place he’d bought for her closer to him. Krish remained as silent as possible as he headed down the stairs. Perhaps if he’d been paying more attention, he’d have seen his youngest, holding onto the railing as he stared at his father, silently wondering where he was going.
But Krish hadn’t seen Rahul and so he’d gotten in this car and began driving. Her memories, her words, everything was still so fresh for Krish. It was almost as if he was living between two worlds; one being the reality, the one where he had to be taking care of his two little boys, and the other—where he still lived with Tanya. Where her dimpled smile was the balm to all his most painful aches.
Krish had moved all her paintings from the house into a storage locker, unable to part with them, but also unable to see them anymore. Except for that first painting, the one that still hung in their bedroom. He wasn’t able to get rid of it, the memories of the moment she’d given it to him, the thought of how they’d first gotten together—all of it was too much for Krish.
Sometimes during these long months, he’d sit there in his study, thinking about how if he’d never walked into that gallery, he could’ve missed out on meeting the love of his life, he might’ve been forced to live a life that wasn’t really a life at all.
Once Krish had arrived at the space he’d brought for her, a place that was special to the two of them, he switched off his car. The shutters were pulled down, no name on the hoarding above it, and the key heavy in his pocket. Krish stepped out of the car, his fingers twisting the key in the lock, feeling the heaviness of this moment engulfing him as he pushed it open.
But it looked the same. It looked as if Tanya had just stepped away for a few moments and was about to come back. The air mattress they’d christened was still there, with the covers and sheets all crumpled and messy. The coffee table dusty with some old magazines and a can of Limca.
He continued venturing further in the room, not missing the canvas that was set up on the side, a stool in front of it that had her palette with dried paint right on top. The painting wasn’t finished, but his fingers still traced over the different colors, trying to see whatever it was that Tanya had seen when she’d been painting it.
Krish just collapsed finally to the floor, his tears streaming down his face as he clutched at the paintbrush Tanya had been holding months back. The space was still so untouched, so engulfed in Tanya’s scent that his heart began beating erratically.
He wanted to call out her name, he wanted to reach for her and just hold her one last time. Feel her fingers curling around his shirt as she held him closer to herself. He just wanted one more chance to tell his beautiful wife how much he loved her. To tell her how lost he was without her and how much he needed her to get through every single day.
Krish heard his phone still ringing and he knew it was his mother wanting to know where he was but Krish didn’t pick up. He knew what she’d say and he knew what he’d be forced to say back to her. Krish just needed his time and his space. The only reason he was allowing himself this time was because he knew his boys were with Isha and so they were taken care of but Krish—Krish just wanted Tanya.
Krish didn’t know how long he’d been out, or when he’d managed to get onto the mattress but he woke up with the sunlight shining through the door, his fingers curled around the sheets that still smelt like Tanya. By the time he does get up, his phone was still ringing and he only glanced at it to see his mother’s name flashing across before it stopped—telling him he had fourteen missed calls.
But Krish just tossed his phone away, he chose to one again just look at his side, praying that by some miraculous way—Tanya would be there on the bed with him, her warm body curled close to his. His eyes darted down to the bundled up sheets and Krish hesitated at touching the sheets, praying he’d get chided by his wife for waking her up but instead—it was just a pillow underneath.
Tanya was gone.
By the time Krish returned home, he was greeted by his boys, both of them holding up paintings they’d made, paintings they’d made for Tanya on Isha’s insistence. But Krish had no expression on his face when he saw them, feeling the ache in his chest grow once more. He looked at Prem’s, barely glancing at Rahul’s when he heard Rahul’s quiet protest just as he was headed up the stairs.
“You don’t even spend time with us anymore Baba!” Rahul frowned, knowing that his grandmother was going to chide him for that but he needed to say it. “It’s like we lost Amma and we lost you too. Why don’t you—“
But Rahul’s words were left incomplete as Krish didn’t turn back, didn’t stop to talk to his son and instead took the steps two at a time, slamming his bedroom door shut.
Isha was at Rahul’s side, her arms wrapping around the little boy as she silently told him that this wasn’t his fault, that his father was just upset but Prem had caught the look in his little brother’s eyes, he knew Rahul wasn’t going to let this go. But Prem didn’t know what he could do, or what he could say to fix things in his little family.
They’d already lost their mother and now Prem just wasn’t sure how he and his brother would be able to get through the next few years without both their parents.
mere ehsaas mein, mere jazbaat mein, tum hi tum ho...
general notes; we thrive on pain and angst--enjoy? this para also includes references to Tanya’s letter, which can be found here.
Krish Malhotra had never expected his life to turn out the way he had. And yet here he was, sitting at Tanya’s hospital bed, holding her now cold hand even though he could see the nurses behind him growing more agitated.
They wanted to take her away from him. They wanted to take her to the cold room. The room where she’d be kept in those drawers until the day Krish would once again take her home. Only this time…he wouldn’t get to hold her, he wouldn’t get to see that dimpled smile on her face, so giddy because they were finally married.
This time—she’d be cold and lifeless. There would be people filling the Malhotra bungalow, all of them crying for Tanya’s life; all of them crying because she was gone too soon.
But none of them would have to fathom what that loss was really like. This was a loss that only hit Krish—and their sons. Prem and Rahul were both just on the verge of turning 8 and this tragedy struck.
"Mr. Malhotra we have to take her now, please.." Krish looked up when he felt a nurse's hand on his shoulder. His eyes were wet and red and while he just wanted to hold onto Tanya and cry, he knew he couldn't.
No he had to be mature about this. And so Krish stood up, nodding as he did until he looked back once more at Tanya's peaceful looking face and froze. He couldn't leave her here. He couldn't be without her.
It all happened in a blur, he barely felt their hands leading him out of the room but by the time he realized it, the door to Tanya's room had been locked because he was left out. He had to return home to his children. He had to explain to them why their mother wasn't with him.
They knew she was sick, Krish and Tanya hadn't kept that from them this time--but of course they were far too young to understand what her sickness was and what it meant for them as a family. Now, now they'd realize the impact.
Krish let himself in, closing the door behind him with a sigh as he collapsed against the wooden door and slid to the floor. He wasn't able to even garner a few moments of solitude considering how quickly footsteps bolted into the lobby, Rahul followed by Prem.
Krish forced his actor smile on his face as he clutched onto both his boys, his heart aching when he caught Tanya's eyes, and her dimpled smile reflecting when Rahul stared up at him. Krish directed his attention to Prem then and sighed. "So did both of you finish your homework? Aur Shanta tai ko zyaada taang toh nahi kiya na?"
"Nahi Krish baba," the lady in question appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her saree pallu dabbing at her wet eyes for the loss of the lady of the house.
The boys didn’t know yet, and he couldn’t tell them. He really couldn’t. There was something in his chest preventing the words from tumbling out and he decided he just needed some time. Time would make everything better, wasn’t that something he’d heard often? Well—it was time to put it to the test.
Krish sat in his study, scratching the beard that was growing on his chin as he thought back to the conversations he’d had with visitors in the last three days. Radha had come first, basically chewing him out for not being honest with his boys and for wallowing. Well, in Krish’s eyes—she had no right, she’d lost it the day she’d walked away from him.
But Abhimanyu—he knew Krish, and he had known Tanya equally well and so his words, they made more sense to Krish and he knew the truth was staring at him quite clearly. Tanya wouldn’t have wanted him moping this way. No, his wonderful wife would want him to be the strong man he’d been when he’d taken care of her every step of the way, healing her broken heart while she too had mended his cracked one.
Their relationship had started in such a fragile state and yet they’d grown to become so strong and solid that nothing could tear them apart. Except Tanya’s death. They hadn’t stood a chance against that.
Krish’s face was once again buried in his hands when he heard a knock on the door. He’d blatantly told Shanta tai to stay away when he was here, because this was his one place to mourn over his wife without being disturbed.
“Krish baba, Ahuja saab aaye hai..memsaab ki kuch baatein karne.” But Krish didn’t want to talk about Tanya. He didn’t want to hear her name fall from anyone else’s lips. He just wanted to tuck away all his feelings deep within his chest while he grieved over the loss of his wife.
But the lawyer wasn’t going to wait forever and Krish knew he had to get the formalities out of the way quickly so that things didn’t escalate. And it was that, along with his promise to Abhi that he’d try which convinced Krish to step out of the room and greet the well dressed man in his living room.
“So sorry for your loss Mr. Malhotra,” he spoke quietly before clearing his throat and opening up his briefcase. “A few days before—Mrs. Malhotra had asked me to visit her in the hospital, to make the final edits to her will. She’s requested that I read it only in front of you as you are the sole beneficiary to everything in her estate.”
Krish was barely listening at this point, unsure of why Tanya would’ve wanted him to be alone as he listened to how this man was talking about his wife, his Tanya as if she was something material who had only left behind pieces of herself to be split.
But before Mr. Ahuja began discussing anything of monetary value, he produced a small box and handed it to Krish. “You have Mrs. Malhotra’s wedding ring?” Krish nodded absentmindedly, unaware of where this conversation was headed until he opened the box and saw the same silver chain that Tanya had worn around her neck when they’d first met. A small smile was on his face as he began understanding what it was she wanted him to do. “Mrs. Malhotra wants you to wear her—“
“Her wedding ring on this chain around my neck,” Krish nodded, tucking the chain into his pocket, the smile on his face still intact as he realized she did want him to carry a piece of her with him at all times. But somewhere he knew it was also because that way she’d forever stay close to his heart considering the length of the chair would have the ring rested just over his heart.
The lawyer cleared his throat as he continued to go on with the discussion of how Tanya’s full estate would be in Krish’s name, with a small portion being set aside for their children, even though she’d added in the will that she knew Krish wouldn’t leave any stone unturned to ensure their children’s wellbeing would be looked after for years to come.
“And as for the studio space that you’d given her Mr. Malhotra, she’s requesting that you take that back, and do as you choose with it. But she’s also added that she hopes you don’t let it become a shrine to her as that’s the last thing she’d have wanted.”
Krish couldn’t help the smile on his face as he listened to the words; he could even heard them in Tanya’s voice, as if she was sitting right there with him, a vision in a white salwar suit as she chided him for even visiting that place as often as he had since the day she’d passed. He loved hearing her voice, even if it was just in his mind. He had a few saved voicemails from her as well, they were silly things, just her asking him to book some appointments or reminding him of his flight timings, but he’d save them forever because her voice was something he’d never get to hear again and he couldn’t—he couldn’t let that go.
But that’s when he saw a letter being held out in front of him, her hand writing spelling out his name in cursive along the front. “She’s left this for you as well,” Mr. Ahuja stated, standing up now and patting Krish on the back as he left the living room.
Krish held the closed envelope in his hand, unsure of what this could be and what it could say inside. But holding it securely in his hand—he headed up to their bedroom. Locking the door behind him, he collapsed on the floor right against the door and pulled the folded letter out of the envelope, tossing it to the side.
He hadn’t thought seeing her handwriting would send him into a spiral but it did, the way she wrote his name, not to mention her words—it was all making him ache. He could feel his heart sinking and didn’t understand what was happening. He knew she’d written this before, and yet it still felt like she was reaching out for him once more. Just reading through her words was giving him the sensation that she was right there. Tanya was sitting right there with him. Her hand on his knee as he read through her final words.
The ‘i love you’ was enough to make him ache because she shouldn’t have felt like that. she’d said it to him so much, reminding him that whatever his past had held—none of it was true because he’d had her love, he’d been able to live a life with someone who’d cared about him the same way he’d madly cared about her.
The second paragraph had him snorting out loud, a small sniffle escaping him as he smiled and forced himself to continue reading through his glassy eyes. She’d lied to him, about the most mundane things and yet she couldn’t carry any of that with her in the final days, needing to let them out so he could be reminded once more of how pure hearted his Tanya was. She was reminding him once more about how he had to be both parents to their little boys, and Krish was already failing there. How could he tell her that he didn’t know how to be that parent they needed? He couldn’t—because she wasn’t there anymore. She wouldn’t be able to listen to him either. Nor would she be able to give him sound advice like she always did when he was stuck in a conundrum.
But it was her last paragraph that hit the hardest, because she knew—she knew just how he’d be reacting. He’d already been upset with God, having his own argument about how unfair it was that Tanya was snatched away from him, away from their boys when they’d be needing her the most. He knew her reasons for not being upset any longer were valid, and he really should just be thankful that he’d been given a chance to live his life in the most enriched way possible thanks to that one moment that he’d walked into her gallery so late at night.
Krish often sat and thought about it, even when she was alive and they were happy—what would’ve happened if he hadn’t walked into her gallery? What if he hadn’t met her? What would their lives have been then? Would she have stayed in Mumbai? Or gone back home to Delhi? Maybe they’d have met then? Tanya had always told him that in her tale of things—they’d have been destined to meet no matter what.
He liked believing her because imagining his life without Tanya in it—was unfathomable. And now—now it had become a reality that he was forced to face.
But when she wrote about how much she loved him, he broke down. The letter fell from his hands, falling onto the tiled floor while he hid his face in his knees, allowing himself to cry for the woman he’d lost. To cry for the love he felt around him but would never truly experience again.
He allowed himself to cry for his Tanya, the woman who’d truly made his world more beautiful by stepping into it. His canvas had been blank before her and yet when Tanya came into his life, she brought along her different colours, and had painted a masterpiece onto his blank canvas. But now she was gone, the painting had dried—and he was left just admiring it—not ever getting the chance to find that artist once more.
Those words echoed through my mind repeatedly as I aimlessly wandered along the shore, the luminous shine of the moon guiding my path through the darkened DR beach. That was all that was needed to blow my mood. All that was needed for those past feelings of resentment for her to bubble back up. All that was needed for me to distance myself from her once again. She always pulled shit like this. Like I was the reason we ended the way we did. Bullshit. Something about the both of us was just disastrous when we were put together. Like a burning match and dynamite, we were explosive. Not necessarily in the good way either. I don't think I've met someone who I've bumped heads with as much as her. Our individual tempers are enough to set a city into flames, but combined? Catastrophic.
I don't understand how I've allowed this girl to repeatedly get me as angry as she does. Back then and even now, she just finds a way to push every wrong button there is. She's so on and off with me, I never know what to expect from her most of the time. But the craziest shit about it is we could have arguments on top of arguments. A "fuck you" here and an "I hate you" there, but after all the bullshit, it's always just something there. Something that keeps both of us from being mad at each-other from too long. I'll never understand it, but that's my road dog, no matter what. Even though the majority of the time, I wouldn't mind decking her in the throat.
There was just something about that old flame that I couldn't extinguish. But there's only so many times you can play with fire before you get burned, right?
